


rooftop musings

by mistyheartrbs



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Alaska, F/F, Introspection, idk what you'd call this she's just vibing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyheartrbs/pseuds/mistyheartrbs
Summary: Villanelle sits on top of the roof, sometimes.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	rooftop musings

**Author's Note:**

> figured it was only fair to write something from villanelle's pov after the bear fic

Villanelle sits on top of the roof, sometimes, and she tells Eve that it’s because she wants to keep lookout for her darling girlfriend (and she always stutters a bit on the word _girlfriend,_ because saying it in your head and occasionally saying it to unwilling fellow assassins who under no circumstances actually want to hear about anyone’s love life is worlds different from saying it to the object of one’s affections, not that she considers Eve an object, if she ever did) but really it’s because she appreciates the view.

Of course, to say that to Eve would ruin any remaining shred of the mystery she held, the demon with no face and any other sexy nicknames she might’ve had, so the guard surveys her kingdom and it is, largely, comprised of snow and trees.

Villanelle thinks she will grow tired of snow and trees very quickly, seeing as they had been here for about two months now and there was nothing here aside from snow and trees and the bear, that one time. 

She isn’t tired of them yet, though, and the crisp air feels familiar on her face, probably turning her cheeks pink, probably sinking into her bones. She’s surprised by how warmly her heart beats anyway. If she were a more pretentious soul (which she insists up and down that she’s not) she would say that she’d forgotten how it felt, love, and that this was symbolized by how sturdily it thumped now. What the situation _really_ is, removed from poetic sing-songing, is as simple as this: she had not given herself ample time to consider herself and be alone with her thoughts, and now she had managed to get that time for both herself and for Eve, and it was for this reason that she could be aware of the blood pumping through her veins as it was made to do.

There are more stars here than in London. They surround her, unfairly beautiful. She’s a wandering soul - searches for home notwithstanding, she knows in her bones that this, like everything else, is temporary. Eventually the Twelve will find her, and she and Eve will be on the run again, and they will leave behind the stars and the trees and the snow and then she will curse the moment she was at all tired of them. 

“Ah, I’ve gone soft,” she says aloud, and the wind carries away her words like they are nothing at all. Villanelle pulls her coat tighter and lies down, so that the only thing in her vision is the vast sky, nearly black now, the stars all shining through like teeny tiny pinpricks.

Eve is asleep, downstairs. She’s probably doing that thing she does, sometimes, where she sleeps very still like a corpse and it honestly freaks Villanelle out a little bit. 

(Villanelle herself sleeps very ungracefully, according to Eve, like she is trying to take up as much space on the bed as she can, and this is probably true, but of course she cannot watch herself while sleeping and cameras can be hacked very easily, so that’s also out of the question, not to mention the single store in town only has _batteries_ half the time, so cameras are a moot point anyway)

Villanelle resigns herself to looking up at the stars for a little while longer, and watching the snow stay as still and pristine as it always does in this neck of the woods, which is literally a neck of the woods. So she does, until it gets too cold to bear, and Eve is there, and for at least a little while all is right in the world, even her traitorous beating heart.

**Author's Note:**

> most of the good things that have happened this year have been related, unsurprisingly, to television


End file.
